


The Long Year

by Fujiwara_no_Seimei



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fujiwara_no_Seimei/pseuds/Fujiwara_no_Seimei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hikaru had always been that "thing" in Akira's life.  That bright, happy something that tripped Akira up along what would have otherwise been a straight, obstacle-less path.  That thing that seemed to think that playing go on a cake was a perfectly acceptable idea.  The thing that thought running to a ramen shop in the pouring rain was not going to have any consequences.  The thing that fell asleep on his shoulder after three straight games and then a TV movie, and was perfectly unphased that he'd done it.  And Akira wasn't sure how he was going to survive a year without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To be missed, and be called by your given name.

"For _how_ long?" Akira stammered.  
"For a year," Hikaru said, cleaning his stones off of the goban in the Touya Go Salon.  
"A year? In America? I thought it was going to be weeks, months at most! What about your pro matches? Your dan level, what-"  
"Touya, that's not going anywhere," he said, a bit irritated, and showing it with a slam of the lid on the goke. "Yeah, I'll get behind, but I won't stop being a pro, and I can start advancing again when I get back. The point is, I'll get to go from one side of the United States to the other, playing all the best players and teaching lots of people about Go."  
"But...a whole year..." Akira said, withdrawn.  
"Akira, come on. You'll get to advance for a whole year without me. At least _try_ to act like you want to take advantage of that."

He didn't. Right now, being far away from Shindou Hikaru, be it physically or in skill, wasn't very appealing.  
It was clear why Hikaru was selected for the American Go Institute Ambassador Program. The United States was never very prominent in the global go market, though that wasn't to say there weren't some talented players. But they wanted to generate interest, and so they wanted a young, hip go prodigy to tour with the American Institute to do it, as well as foster program donations, as the funding was quickly diminishing with the economy. Hikaru was everything they'd wanted: young, talented, quick rising (5 dan, now, just one dan short of Akira's current rank), as well as attractive and easygoing. He had been studying English pretty thoroughly (as all of Morishita's students had been advised to do), and could maintain at least a simple conversation. Most of all, was his willingness to drop out of the Japanese pro circuit for a year. He had hesitated at first but, in the end, he was excited to see new places and play people he'd never played before.

It was in this way that Akira and Hikaru's differences were accentuated. Soon after going pro, Akira began studying Chinese and Korean, in order to solidify his understanding of the traditional domestic go market. He would clearly be playing in those countries and against those people, so it made sense. What did Hikaru do when he went pro? Missed whole lengths of matches to go to Taiwan, Europe, and the United States. Studied English, of all things. Though a useful language, globally, it was just another representation of Hikaru's middle-class modernness- in complete contradistinction to Akira's refined upper class upbringing. Akira functioned on the idea of being useful to his country. Hikaru functioned on the idea of enjoying the hell out of himself.  
And so, while Akira would never take such an opportunity up in a million years, Hikaru was more than eager to take it in a second. He wanted to live his life by his terms.

That was part of the reason Akira was starting to get these funny feelings- Hikaru's love of life. The feeling that he wanted more of Hikaru's kind of life in _his_ life than he already had. And more of Hikaru, himself, it turned out. More than just games, friendly or heated exchanges over the goban. But Hikaru's downtime was spent in a pack, a configuration Akira was certainly not comfortable in, especially when it involved Waya Yoshitaka, who had never seemed to like Arika all that much in the first place. His sense of decorum and pride also ensured that he would never say anything sappy or stupid to Hikaru, which was unfortunate as the root of these "feelings" were nothing but sappy and stupid.  
And now on top of that, on top of not being able to bring Hikaru closer, he was actually going farther away.

"I think I need to go," Akira said.  
"What? We only played two games."  
"I've got a lot to do, Shindou. I can't spend all of my time-"  
"Yeah, yeah, can't spend all your time 'tutoring me'- you said that yesterday too."  
"Did I?"  
"You did. And the day before."  
"There's no way I said that three days in a row!"  
Hikaru had to hide his smile. No, he was lying. He had only said it twice, but these moments were precious. He loved ruffling Akira's feathers.  
"There is, cause I heard it!"  
"Oooh, you," Akira said, finger shaking in Hikaru's face.  
"You leaving or not?" Hikaru said with a provoking grin and a raised eyebrow.  
Color rushed up to Akira's cheeks, a reaction that caught Hikaru- and Akira himself- off guard.  
"Wha-" Hikaru began to ask, but Akira was already half way out the door.  
"What was with that...?"

Akira ran down the sidewalk towards the bus stop as far away as he thought was necessary to have escaped Hikaru. Slowing to a walk, he raised his hands to his cheeks, trying to shake the image out of his head. Those crossed arms...that smile...God, that smile. Sometimes Hikaru looked positively... well, he didn't really know what to call it, but it made him feel like he was going to pass out every time he saw it. Hikaru was not a kid anymore. He was 18, and he was starting to look like an adult. A man.  
Akira didn't fare so well in that department, never shaking his lithe, slender figure, though it likely didn't help that the most strenuous sport he ever played was go. Another thing that set him apart from his rival was how damned active the older boy was. Volleyball at the beach, soccer games on his home block, even the occasional jog or hike... Akira would never be found doing any of that. Hell, he probably forgot even how to break a sweat, at this point.  
Arriving at the bus stop with a few minutes to spare before the next bus, he reached into his pocket.

No. No he hadn't.

Yes he had. His wallet was in his jacket pocket, which he'd left in the salon. Damn. Akira paced back and forth for a second, wondering if there was an alternative to not going back until tomorrow, but there wasn't and he couldn't get home without using his Suico pass or calling Ogata-

Oh, guess I can't do that either, he thought, tapping his empty back pocket.

Well, Hikaru was probably gone by now, right? He only came to the Touya salon to play Akira. Hikaru had his own recreational facility to play in. Which he had invited Akira to numerous times, and had been declined numerous times, sort of terrified of the kind or salon Hikaru called home. He had a really rather exaggerated in his mind what the people there were like, rough, burly, drunk. He knew that couldn't really be what it was like, but he couldn't shake the aversion.  
Alright, he would go back. Hikaru would definitely be gone. Although, he started to care a little less about whether Hikaru would still be there or not on account of how cold it was. And how stupid it was to run out into the streets with no coat in early December. And yet, he cared all over again when he reached the door.

His steps slowed to a stop about two meters away from the salon entrance. There he was. Waiting. With _his_ coat. Outside.  
What the _hell_?

"Forget something?" Hikaru called, _coolly_. Too coolly.  
"Sh...shut up, Hikaru," he said gruffly, before his eyes widened and he slapped his hand over his mouth.  
"First name basis, huh?" Hikaru laughed.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._, Akira's brain hissed.

Hikaru closed the gap between them and held the coat out at arm's length. "Here," he said, defeated," I just can't win against you in anything, can I?"  
Akira was unaware as to what game they'd been playing. Akira reached out to snatch for the coat, but at that very moment, Hikaru pulled it away again, grinning.  
"Hey!" Akira shouted.  
"So what's your deal?" He went on, more seriously. "Why'd you go and bug off without your jacket?"  
"Oh get off it," Akira said, rubbing his arms with his hands, trying to stifle a cold shiver. "Give me my jacket."  
Hikaru frowned, a little hurt. "What the hell, Akira?" He said, shoving the jacket into his rival's hands.  
"Akira?" the namesake repeated, hurriedly putting on his jacket.  
"Are we having the same conversation?" Hikaru asked, hands on his hips.  
"Are we having a _conversation_?" Akira replied, bitingly.

They were at an impasse, neither able to read ahead on the board. Hikaru was the one to give in, moments later. He sighed, and threw up his hands as he turned.  
"Whatever," he said, flippantly.  
"What- what_ever_?" Akira said incredulously. No, the damage was done, and whatever test he had just been subjected to, he had failed, punctuated by Hikaru's- wait, was he giving Akira the _finger_?

•°•°•°•

"Please tell me that my phone fell out of my jacket pocket in the coat room, Ichikawa-san," Akira pleaded the next evening, hands clasped in prayer at his forehead.  
"Akira-kun," she said, "I didn't see..."  
"Please check. _Please_? Before Hikaru shows up."  
She took a cue from his desperate intonation and checked the coatroom again. She came out defeated.  
"Uggghhhh," Akira groaned, uncharacteristically inelegant of him.  
"Akira-kun, would you mind if I asked you something...?" the hostess went on.  
"What? Yes, of course, Ichikawa-san."  
"Did you know you just called him..._Hikaru_?"  
At that moment, the phone rang, and she bowed quickly to excuse herself.  
Akira exhaled hard.

"Oh, hello Sh- Oh? Yes," she put her hand over the receiver and mouthed to Akira 'don't leave yet!' before resuming her conversation. "Yes. Yes, oh dear. Can't you just...? Okay. Of course. I'll tell him." She hung up the phone with a distressed glance before looking back up at Akira.  
"W...what is it?" Akira balked.  
"S...Shindou-kun...says," she cringed for a minute, obviously dreading whatever she has to say out loud,"that if you want it back you better come to the Lilac Cafe."

"That son of a-"  
"Akira!"

He should have thanked her for enduring that awkwardness, but he'd apologize to her later because right now, he kind of wanted to hit Hikaru in the face. And so, to the Lilac he went.  
It wasn't far, just a couple of blocks away. A lesser-known cafe, they both knew where it was because a year ago they'd stumbled in at the same time and wrestled ferociously over whether they were supposed to sit together or not. This time would not be so much of a dilemma.

"Shindou," Akira said, rather ferociously.  
"My my," Hikaru said, laying it on right away. "Testy."

Akira was livid, being spoken to like that. All admiration he'd had for his rival was currently vacationing on another planet.

"What are you _doing_," he hissed.  
"Giving you back your phone?"  
"Why did you take it in the first place?" he said, putting his palm out to receive it.  
But Hikaru made no motion to give it up. "To get you to talk to me?"  
Akira shook, just a little, and retracted his hand, as it seemed evident nothing was being put there any time soon.  
"Shindou, I talk to you every day at the salon, why do you need to hold my phone _hostage_?"

"We don't talk over the goban," he replied, raising his voice,"we _argue_. We argue every day-" Hikaru was interrupted when he finally noticed the nervous waitress standing next to them. Hikaru asked for two tapioca teas, strawberry for me, green for him, and she was off. He refocused.  
"We argue every day, and yesterday, we actually almost hold a conversation and you _run away_."  
"You..." Akira lit up. "You don't need to be informed as to why I do _anything_, Shindou!"

Hikaru sighed, his eyes tinged with dissapointment, and he leaned back, shaking his head.  
Akira's temper softened just the slightest bit, wondering why his rival was backing down, looking damn near forlorned.

"Touya?" Hikaru said, almost trembling, "Are we... friends?"  
Touya froze. Much against his will, the anger he'd harbored moments ago flushed out of him instantly. The only thing he could think of to do was to answer honestly.  
"I...don't know, Shindou."  
"I thought maybe we should decide," Hikaru went on. "Maybe we'd fight less."

Hikaru stared down at his hands in silence while Akira stared at him, drinks landing gently on the table by the hand of the waitress. Neither were all that interested in drinking them. Hikaru raised his hand, phone clenched inside. "If I give this back, will you not run away?"  
"The way this is going, I can't guarantee it, no," Akira said, still feeling honest. Hikaru put the phone back in his pocket.  
"How do you decide who is your friend, Hikaru?" he went on, nervously. It wasn't a shock to anyone that Akira didn't really know much about having friends.  
Hikaru shifted his weight anxiously. "Well..." he began, "Two things come to mind." He paused, making sure Akira was attentive, cause he sure as hell wasn't going to say it twice.  
"First, they'll miss me when I'm gone for a year," he said. Akira's eyes cast down, nervously. "And, he said," moving on without mercy, "sometimes they refer to me by my first name."

Akira thought back quickly, realizing that he had used it again just a second ago.

"My birthday's in your phone calendar," he went on.

Akira had no idea what he was supposed to be saying or doing, but he felt like he was being accused of doing something wrong, so he stared at the table in front of him, silently.

"And then, on January 15th, it says-"  
"Shindou!" Akira yelped, a little to loud.

There was a brief pause. Akira knew what it said on January 15th.  
"Wh...what are you getting at, Shindou?" He said, hiding his trembling.  
"You...ran away yesterday. I told you, I wanted to know why. Do you want to tell me, or should I tell you?"  
Akira sat, tense and silent, and after a beat it was apparent that he was not going to be telling anything.

"You...I don't want to sound like I'm presuming anything, but... were you upset that I was leaving?"

Akira took a deep breath. He knew the cafe was full, but he could barely hear any of the background noise. Rain was falling outside, he could see the dotted cafe window behind Hikaru's form. Yes, he thought, yes, I'm upset that you're leaving. And I'm more upset that I don't know how to tell you I want you not to go. So he was honest. It was working fine so far.

"Hikaru, I... don't know...how to tell you what I'm feeling," he stammered.  
Hikaru breathed carefully, as if making too loud a noise would startle his rival.  
"Just...okay. Okay," he said. "That's okay. Can I...make a suggestion, then?"  
Akira nodded, eyes still glued to the table top.  
"Lets be friends," he said.  
Akira exhaled slowly. "O...okay."

Hikaru breathed a sigh of relief, then fluidly grabbed the phone out of his pocket and tossed it on the table.  
The sudden break of tension jarred them, and they looked up at one another with a renewed sense of clarity.

"God, I feel like I just proposed," Hikaru said. "This is so weird."  
"Oh God," Akira said, dropping his hands into his face.  
"Laugh, you idiot!" Hikaru demanded.  
"Laugh? _Idiot_?"  
"Laugh! Come on! Friends do that sometimes. More often then not, actually."  
"Hikaru," he went on, ignoring the bit about the laughing out of self-preservation. "Why did you think...I mean you...were...rightandall, but...how did you know that I...?"  
"Ever since I told you I was going to America," he said, relieving Akira from his train wreck babbling, "you've been accidentally calling me Hikaru instead of Shindou."  
"A...ah," he acknowledged.  
"It felt...like..." Hikaru scratched the back of his head, "Like you were trying to keep me from leaving."  
"I guess so."  
"The fact that your phone calendar says 'Hikaru might be leaving' on the day I leave for America doesn't help either."  
Akira suddenly flushed.  
"Akira?"

His sudden nervousness was only compounded by the sound of his first name.  
"I'll miss you too, you know."

Akira's heart stopped for a moment. Suddenly, things were very clear. This was going to be a hard year.


	2. To do without thinking.

"Happy Birthday!" Hikaru shouted when Akira entered the salon.

It had only been a few weeks since they'd "decided" to be friends, and it was going as awkwardly as ever.  Akira gave his coat and scarf to Ichikawa and made his way to his chair across from his glowing rival.

"Hikaru?" he said, pausing.  
"Yes?"  
"Is this goban made out of cake?"  
"It sure is!" Hikaru beamed triumphantly.

Akira turned around on the spot and started walking back to the door.

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing, you jerk!" Hikaru called.  
"I came here to play go, Hikaru, not eat cake."  He would have appreciated the sentiment, really, if he had not been eating cake all day, and if he hadn't been looking forward to playing Hikaru as much as he did.

"You are such an asshole, why am I even your friend?"  
Akira raised a hand to his forehead, massaging his temple.  
"Besides," Hikaru said, punctuating the statement with the thrust of two bags of candy in front of him, "We're supposed to play."  
Akira looked up.  
"These are coffee, and these are milk flavor.  The coffee ones are more brown than black, but I think we can handle it."  
Akira shook his head. How long had he been planning this?

"You're ridiculous."  
"You're a jerk.  Come play."

With that, the birthday boy was defeated, and he went back and took his seat.  
"I can't believe I'm going to play Go on a cake,"  he lamented.  
"I can.  We can't nigiri, cause that would make a mess.  You go first."  
Akira raised his eyebrows in agreement, shook his head in resignation, and took the bag of coffee flavored candies from his friend.

•°•°•°•

The game was not extraordinary, but it was good enough to draw a small crowd.

During the endgame, Hikaru's finger slipped off of his "stone" and his index finger pulled up a chunk of frosting with it.  
"Ugh," Akira said disdainfully.  
"It's just frosting," he said, bringing his finger to his mouth to lick it off, but stopping just short, a mischievous grin creeping across his lips.  
"Hikaru, what are you-" he began, silenced when Hikaru lept up to wipe the frosting on his rival's nose.  
"You!" he huffed.  
"Ha ha...thought I'd share it.  Chill out, it's frosting.  You know, sugar and some junk.  It washes off."  
"Oh does it?" Akira said, nodding his head, fire in his eyes.  
The crowd retreated instantly.

Minutes later, they were crammed over the bathroom sink, scrubbing faces and shirtfronts desperately with hands and water.  
"I can't believe you, Hikaru."  
"Yes you can," he replied, head in the sink as he tried to get frosting out of his bangs.  
"You're crazy.  Absolutely crazy," he went on, shaking water from his hands.  He turned to his friend. "I kind of want to kill you, but I kind of want to hug you."  
Hikaru lifted his head to stare back, bangs dripping ceremoniously.  
Akira lifted his hands to his face. "N...never mind."

Despite that, Hikaru was on top of him in less than a beat.  The first thing Akira felt was wet hands on the backside of his sweater and sopping hair on his cheek.  
But then he connected the dots, and between the hands and the hair were the arms and torso of his friend.  It felt nice.

"Hikaru," Akira said, without any real plan for the words meant to follow it.  
"It means you had fun, right?" Hikaru asked, hopefully. "I didn't screw it up."  
Akira closed his eyes, taking tally of all of his senses.  This moment smelled like frosting, Ichikawa's tea, a tinny Gatsby brand aftershave, and chemical hair bleach. Akira burned this scent into his memory.

"I did, Hikaru.  Thank you," he finally replied, tightening his arms around his friend's back.  
"But if you ever do something like this again, I might kill you."  
Hikaru's embrace stiffened. "Gotcha."

•°•°•°•

Hikaru had always been that thing in Akira's life.  That bright, happy something that tripped Akira up along what would have otherwise been a straight, obstacle-less path.  That thing that seemed to think that playing go on a cake was a perfectly acceptable idea.  The thing that thought running to a ramen shop in the pouring rain was not going to have any consequences.  The thing that fell asleep on his shoulder after three straight games and then a TV movie, and was perfectly unfazed that he'd done it.

Akira always knew what Hikaru was, but now that Hikaru was doing it in overdrive, the prospect of his departure was getting more and more painful by the day.  Akira had often had the urge to say something to Hikaru, something like "You've added something to my life that I never want to go away," or "if you hadn't come into my life, I would be miserable right now, or even worse, boring," but in the end, three days before Hikaru was to leave, they sat over their regular goban in the club and he said, "Hikaru, you don't think before you do things, do you?"

Hikaru was instantly offended. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
Akira kept playing, unshaken. "Don't get huffy.  I mean you just seem to do things when you feel them, without thinking too much about the consequences.  It's like you live in the moment."  
Hikaru frowned as he placed another piece. "Not thinking and not over-thinking are two different things, Akira."  
"Then I consider myself corrected."  
"You better.  But I guess you're right?  I mean, I usually jump on my ideas before really thinking them through, huh?  Compared to you."  
"What do you mean, compared to me?"  
"I mean you over-think everything."  
"I'm cautious," Akira said, defensively.  "It allows for order in my life.  Something foreign to you, I assume."  
Hikaru scoffed. He played another turn, and then changed his expression. "It's like our go, you know," he said.  
"Mmm," Akira agreed. "You play wild moves with the gut understanding that they can be played out, and I read carefully and play solid, time tested moves."  
"I think," Hikaru said, thoughtfully, "that the day you do something important without thinking about it, it's gonna be the best thing you've ever done."  
"That's a tall order, Shindou."  
"It's a bet, moron."

Akira would never get used to the way Hikaru insulted him without really meaning it.  Since the day he'd first said 'I said someday, _idiot_!' he'd been subject to almost daily exclamations ending with the word. It was a certain sentence structure that he'd only ever heard Hikaru use when talking to him. Ridiculous as it was, he filed it away with the other things he cherished about Hikaru, including his smile, his tears, and his unbridled enthusiasm.

He'd decided long ago that he wanted that impulsive part of Hikaru in his life.  But he'd assumed that having Hikaru himself in it was enough.

•°•°•°•

It was awkward for Akira, standing there at the station next to Waya, Isumi, Nase, and Akari.  
But mostly because of Waya.

Hikaru heaved a big sigh and put out his arms for a final group hug. Everyone rushed in, excepting Akira, who had never participated in a group hug in his life.

When the pack separated, Hikaru looked at Akira quizzically.  
"Akira?"  
"S...sorry, Hikaru, I've never..." but Hikaru shut him up with an individual hug. Akira stood, stunned and frozen.  
"Hug back, idiot. Aren't you going to miss me?"  
Akira was overpowered by the scent and the warmth and the brush of Hikaru's hair on his cheek. Despite his quickening heartbeat, he raised his hands to Hikaru's back and hugged gently.  He was really leaving, wasn't he?  
"Hey, don't go crying or anything," Hikaru laughed.  
"I'm not going to cry, jerk."

Hikaru pulled away. "I don't know about using phones, but I should be able to use the internet. I'll email you guys as soon as I can, okay? It might be a few days."  
Everyone nodded.

When Hikaru picked up his bags and headed for the door of the train, Akira's heart dropped into his stomach.

He _was_ really going.

Akira reached a hand out and opened his mouth, as if he'd intended to shout after him, but nothing came out. Hikaru was on the train now, pushing his larger luggage into the door side compartment.

He wasn't gone yet.

"Doors will be closing shortly!" the conductor shouted.

Akira wasn't sure what could have possibly compelled him to do it. He didn't think, because he didn't have time to think, because Hikaru was leaving in a matter of seconds. And he needed to tell Hikaru everything before he left, before he went away for a year, and found a new life, and played new people, and forgot all about him. He needed to tell him.

And that train of thought is what led him to shouting Hikaru's name, running up to the door, grabbing a frightened Hikaru by the shirt collar and planting a hard, desperate kiss on his lips.

"Doors closing!" The conductor repeated, and the two separated just in time for the door to slide shut between them.  
Akira stood mortified with himself, hands clasped over his mouth, trying desperately to read Hikaru's face from behind the glass.  
And Hikaru stared with a hand over his mouth, looking confused and a little worried, and the train began to move.

Akira stood there for a long while, red faced and frightened.

What had he done?  
That same question was burning in the brains of Waya, Isumi, Nase, and Akari, the latter two of them blushing hard at having witnessed the moment.    
"Did..." Waya began.  
"Don't even speak, Waya.  Don't say a word," Isumi said.

Akira was mortified, horrifed, positive that whatever he had just done had ruined his relationship with Hikaru.  And now?  Now he had to wait for days until Hikaru could contact him.

Would he even, after that?

Tears welled up in Akira's eyes, and he ran out of the station, cursing his one moment of desperate impulsiveness.


	3. Moving forward, slowly.

Akira Touya was in a state of constant panic for three days. And the hardest part of it was that he didn't know what he did or didn't want to happen now.  He knew what the panic was about, but not what he was panicked _for_.

After his games, he would run to the coat room to check his cell phone for an email.  During games at the institute, he would dodge curious glances from Isumi and Waya.  He even left his phone on at night, when previously he would shut it off, because according to Akira, whatever anyone had to say to him, it could usually wait until morning.  

Except this.

It was on day three that a message from Shindou finally came.  Akira was in his room, on his computer playing a game of go with some one named "Roger11" from America, when he heard his phone buzz on its unceremonious place on his pillow.

It was 7:18 in the evening, and 8:18 in the morning where the message came from.

And it came from HShindo@usgo.org.

::Hello everyone! Can't type in Japanese on this computer yet! I'll email again when I figure out!::

Not only did it come from HShindo, but it was addressed to Waya, Isumi, Akari, and what he assumed were email addresses for Mrs. and Mr. Shindou.

Oh yes. And it was in English.

Akira had a formidable hold on English, though he wasn't what you'd call fluent.  "I'll email again" was the only part that made sense to him, so Akira wondered if he would be doomed to have translate future emails word by word for the next year.

Luckily, shortly before midnight, another email came in, this time in Japanese characters.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Finally! My new friend Steven helped me!  I'm safe in San Francisco, settling into the apartment that will be my home base for the month. I start games tomorrow. Everyone has been nice so far! Mail me at this address, okay?&lt;&lt;

Akira blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes.  Was he aware of the time difference, or did he just expect everyone else to be awake at this hour?  

In any case, Akira had his first taste of contact with Hikaru, which sent a shiver of excitement, and then a shiver of dread, down his spine. After twenty minutes of typing and deleting messages of varying degrees of acknowledgement of the kiss, he settled on the lamest possible response.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Good to hear from you, Hikaru.&lt;&lt;

Moments later, the phone buzzed back.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: You're still awake?&lt;&lt;

Akira was tired, and not sure what to make of the response.  The first thing he had to say was about his sleep habits? Had he forgotten that Akira had kissed him, completely out of the blue, three days ago?  Need he remind him?

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Well, I've been kind of anxious to hear from you.&lt;&lt;

Akira regretted sending it the minute he pressed the 'send' button, but what was done was done.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Phew! Okay, I was worried when you sent a lame message like 'good to hear from you.'&lt;&lt;

Worried?  What exactly had he been worried about?

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Hikaru, I don't know what to say right now.  I'm feeling embarrassed about what I did.&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Embarrassed? Don't be, okay? Sure, I was surprised, but you did it without thinking, didn't you?  I got really happy when I thought about it.  It meant a lot!  Don't worry, I don't think you're gross or anything.&lt;&lt;

Akira sighed with relief.  Okay.  So nothing was as royally screwed up as he'd anticipated.  Why hadn't he predicted that Hikaru would roll with the kiss like he did with everything else?  That said, what now?

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: So you don't think I'm gross, that's great, of course.  But what _do_ you think?&lt;&lt;

Akira paused before sending this, wary of the response he might get.  But he did it anyway.  His eyes were straining from focusing on the tiny, bright screen of the phone in the darkness, and he was tired, and he was anxious, and his thoughts weren't going to get any clearer the longer he sat on the response.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I do think I'm a little pissed because I can't kiss you back for a year.&lt;&lt;

Akira almost choked on the shock when he read it, and when he had recomposed himself, he read it a few more times.  He couldn't believe what he'd read.

And then, without really trying, he drifted to sleep, because a weight of worry had been lifted and he finally could.

He hadn't known how he'd wanted Hikaru to react.

But somehow, this was just the reaction he didn't know he wanted.

•°•°•°•

When Akira woke up the next morning, Mejin league games in his queue for the day, he found his phone blinking incessantly with new messages. He blushed a bit when he remembered the last one he'd gotten.  And according to the new ones, he was in trouble.

3:00P-&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Hey!  Don't ignore me after I say something like that!  Email me back?&lt;&lt;

3:28P-&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Akira?  Hey, please say something, I didn't mean to screw things up.  If you didn't mean it, I mean, I didn't think you wouldn't mean that, but if what I said was weird you can forget it, if you want.&lt;&lt;

5:30P-&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Shit.  Akira?  Can I talk to you on the phone?  Let me know when is a good time to call.  I'm sorry, let's clear this all up, okay? Please, please don't be grossed out.  Maybe I misunderstood something?&lt;&lt;

Oh God!  Now Hikaru was in the same place Akira had been.  He quickly hammered out an email with sleepy fingers.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Calm down, Hikaru, everything is fine.  What you said made me happy.  I fell asleep, okay? I'm not ignoring you.  I'm awake now. It's 6 AM here (still 7PM by you) I'll be here until 8, then I'm leaving for games.&lt;&lt;

A response came twenty minutes later.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Thank God.  Meetings this evening, email you later. Good luck today.&lt;&lt;

•°•°•°•

Akira dominated his Mejin league game, and hurried along to a study session with some lower dans.  When he finally had the opportunity to look at the phone, it was already evening.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I can get some time on the phone between 6 and 7.  Are you free then?&lt;&lt;

Akira frowned. He had already missed that window.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Sorry, I was at a study.  What are you doing now?&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: About to start some tutoring at a school. I'll write when I'm out.&lt;&lt;

Unfortunately, this went on for another week.  The two had busy schedules that didn't seem to mesh, especially with an 11 hour time difference.  It was strained, but not unpleasant.  Hikaru filled Akira in on his schedule of appearances, and Akira triumphantly reported his never ending wins.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: I'm a seven-dan today, Hikaru.&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Yeah? Well, I'm trying to teach some skeezy, important old guy how to play go.  I acknowledge your victory, of course, but this guy? I can't understand a word he's saying, but I do understand those looks he's giving me,  and if I survive this, I deserve to be a seven-dan too.&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: I'll proudly award you the 'Survived a game with some important but skeezy American' title, Hikaru.&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I have the feeling you're not being entirely sincere.&lt;&lt;

•°•°•°•

Akira found himself entering the institue on Monday at the same time as Isumi.  Akira was tapping away at his cellphone when Isumi called his attention.

"Touya-kun?"  
Akira looked up. "Ah, Isumi-san.  How are you?"  
Isumi's eyebrows furrowed almost imperceptibly. "I'm good.  Have you... spoken with Hikaru?"  
Akira's eyes widened.  He hadn't spoken to any of Hikaru's friends since he left, and he hadn't expected Isumi to be the one to break the ice, for some reason.  
"We've been emailing.  Um... we haven't spoken on the phone, though."  
"A...ah," Isumi replied.  
Akira smiled in a way that looked sincere to everyone except Hikaru, who was the only one who could correctly read it as smug satisfaction.  
"Good Luck today, Isumi-san."

If Isumi wasn't going to grow the balls to ask him about it directly, Akira was not going to deliver the satisfaction of any answers.

•°•°•°•

When the phone rang a few days later, Akira was ready, and pounced on the thing like a tiger.  
"Hikaru?"  
"Akira?"  
"It's really you?"  
"Yes it's really me, you idiot.  How are you?"  
Akira did his best not to reveal his overflowing happiness in the tone of his voice.  
"I'm well, Hikaru.  Very well. How are things for you?"  
"Busy!" he laughed. "My English isn't nearly enough to get me through the day without some serious headaches.  So it probably feels worse than it is."  
"Is there anyone else there who speaks Japanese?" Akira asked.  
"Well, there's a Korean girl here who speaks Japanese pretty well, along with English, but when I start travelling, she won't be coming."  
"What's her name?" Akira blurted before thinking about it.  
"Her name? Her name is Soo." Hikaru paused. "Are you being jealous?"  
"I'm not being jealous.  That's ridiculous," Akira snapped.  
"Don't worry, Akira.  I won't kiss anyone other than you, okay?"  
"Hikaru!" Akira growled against Hikaru's fit of giggles.  

Over time, Hikaru had learned the exact formula of words required in any given situation to push Akira's buttons to maximum.  He had missed being able to exhibit this ability.

"Play any good games, lately?"   
Akira sighed. "The league games are good.  No losses there, but the games are formidable.  The dan games leave a little to be desired, most of the time."  
"You sure are stuffy sometimes, you know that?"  
"You asked me, and I told you."  
"You talk like you're on a completely other level than they are," Hikaru elaborated.  
"Hikaru," Akira paused. "They aren't aiming for the same thing we are."  
"We? What?"  
"They want to win games, raise dan levels, win titles.  I'm aiming for the Hand of God.  It's just not the same playing people with different goals than you."  
"Ah," Hikaru said, suddenly realizing that the conversation was about people in contradistinction to him.  
"It's pretty boring around here, without you," Akira admitted, spinning a stone absently on the board in front of him on the floor.  
"It's pretty boring here without being able to piss you off, too," Hikaru said, his grin damned near audible.  
Akira sighed again. "Do you live alone, Hikaru?"  
"Hmm? No, I'm living in the spare room of an apartment with a guy who works at the US Go Association.  Public relations or something."  
"Is he nice?"  
"He's pretty nice.  A little bland."  
"Are you making friends?"  
"Are you my mom?"  The bluntness of the phase hit Akira hard. Hikaru wasn't laughing, as he'd expect to hear following such a hard-edged statement as that.  
"Hi...karu?"  
Akira heard a huff from the other side of the phone.  
"I'm..." Hikaru began.  Akira waited patiently for the rest.  
"I'm a little... yeah... I'm kind of homesick, you know."  
"I'm sorry, Hikaru," Akira said, genuinely.  
"I guess I'll learn to deal, eventually, but... it's hard to make friends in another country.  Even if I understand what they say, I don't really know what they _mean_."  
Akira wanted desperately to be able to comfort Hikaru, as it was rare for him to display such vulnerability.  Were they together, Akira would lean in for a comforting hug, tell him everything would be okay.  
"I'm so sorry, Hikaru."  
It was silent again for a minute.  
"Hey.  So, anyway," Hikaru said, fumbling with his words to shake off the moodiness, "we could play a game online, you know.  Maybe even make a regular time of it, maybe once a week?  So we don't go crazy?"  
"That's a good idea, Hikaru.  A really good idea."

They talked away the rest of the night (and Hikaru's morning) over a schedule, over recent games that had been played by notable others, and how respective families were doing.  When all small talk had been exhausted, they found themselves with that distinctively awkward moment traditionally reserved for goodbyes.

"It...was good to hear your voice, Hikaru."  
"You too."  
"I..." Akira started, not sure what he'd planned on following it with.  
"I'll miss you," Hikaru finished for him.  
"I'll miss you, too, Hikaru.  Don't..." he sighed, "Don't get any new rivals over there, okay?"  
Hikaru laughed a little. "Okay, Akira."  
"Goodnight."  
"Goodnight, Akira."

The click of the receiver was deafening, and heartbreaking.  
Akira stared at the phone for a long while.  It had only been a couple of weeks, and he couldn't fathom waiting another fifty to see Hikaru's face again.

 


	4. Bridge

The next month went by fairly peacefully.  Akira managed to catch Hikaru on most days, if only for a few minutes during the busier ones, in the morning, when Hikaru's evening was winding down.  Hikaru was now traveling, but he had been equipped with a laptop computer that had a program he could use to make phone calls.  They managed to play games over the internet about once a week, far less than either would have liked, but enough to keep from being completely deprived of one another's go.

Akira would remember, very clearly and for a very long time, the moment things changed.

The first time he did it, it was mostly an accident.  He was listening to Hikaru talk about a game he'd played, and all the while he was visualizing Hikaru on his side of the board.  He watched the Hikaru in his mind lay down stones with expert hands, grinning up at him for no apparent reason, and suddenly Hikaru asked why Akira had sighed.  It was only then that he realized his hand was in between his legs, and that he had been touching himself in an entirely inappropriate way, and he stammered something incomprehensible, but more or less translated to an excuse about having to go to the bathroom and that he'd talk to him tomorrow.

Akira was mortified with himself at this sudden carnal reaction.  He wasn't sure at what point he had become attracted to Hikaru, or if he even was, really.  Did this start before or after he left?  Why now?  He thought he'd never be able to speak to Hikaru again, but when he picked up the phone the next morning, he had no urges and they had a conversation as normal as any other between them had ever been.

"Akira!" Hikaru said brightly over the phone a few days later, "I played _the_ greatest game yesterday!"  
"Did you?" Akira said, more than a little jealous.  "With whom?"  
"Jong Moon Lee.  Oh!  Man, sit down so I can tell you about this!"  
"Alright, go ahead," Akira said, ignoring the missive to sit down.  Akira began folding sweaters and hanging dress shirts as Hikaru started relaying the moves of the match.  Hikaru's voice was light and sweet and excited, and Akira was conflicted.  An excited Hikaru was Hikaru at his best and most beautiful, but he was also being incited into this happiness by someone that wasn't _him_.  Akira had meant the "don't get any new rivals" demand seriously, but this was the first time he felt a twinge of threat.

"You played _there_?" Akira balked. "Did you even _want_ to win this game?"  
"I know, I know.  It sounds bad, but listen..." and Hikaru went on to tell the tale of his amazing follow up to a seemingly disastrous move.  Like usual, Hikaru's endgame was flawless and he won by two and a half moku.

Akira closed his closet and sighed.  He knew Hikaru would play good games with amazing people, that's what he did all this traveling _for_.  But Akira wanted to be the one playing those amazing games with Hikaru.  Wanted to sit across from him over the goban.  Wanted the world to watch them rise together, as he had ever since they were fifteen.

"That's great, Hikaru," he said in a tone that was less than convincing of his enthusiasm.  He flopped onto his bed.  
"What are you grumpy about?" Hikaru said.  
"I'm not," Akira lied, rolling onto his side.  He absently fingered the charm hanging from his phone.  Hikaru had gotten it for him, for reasons he couldn't remember but didn't care about.  
"I can tell when you're lying," Hikaru said. "Honestly."  
"I think I'm going to move out," he said, ignoring Hikaru's observations and changing the subject.  
"You? Why?" Hikaru said. "Didn't you threaten to do that like three years ago?"  
"Hmm? Yeah.  I did, but... I don't know.  This place keeps feeling less and less like my own space, and more like I'm just a guest."  
"It'll be expensive, won't it?"  
"A little," Akira said, sitting up. "But I've been making a lot of money, so it should be fine."  
"You'll need all kinds of stuff like flatware and linens and things."  
"I can handle it."  
"You'll... won't you be lonely?"  
"Hikaru, I'll be _fine._"

They were silent for a minute, and suddenly Akira realized it was Hikaru that was maintaining the silence.  
"Are you still there?" Akira asked.  
"Yeah," Hikaru replied, flatly.  
"Now what are you grumpy about?"  
He could almost hear Hikaru fidget on the other end.  
"Hikaru?"  
"Can-" Hikaru began, pausing to restock his nerve. "Can I tell you something... a little..."  
"Hmm?" Akira said, perking up a bit.   
"I... well.  Don't laugh at me.  Okay?"  
Akira made a promise that he wouldn't even though he had no idea if he could keep it.

"So I guess I've fantasized a little, about maybe moving in with you, one day."  
Akira almost stopped breathing, but remembered to continue a moment later.  
"You...wanted to...?"  
"Yeah, so maybe it's a little weird? I don't know.  I'd probably drive you nuts since I'm such a slob or whatever, but, sometimes I think about all the ways it would be fun, and how we could play one another every night, and...yeah... so I guess..."  
Akira had to lay back down again.  
"...I'm just a little disappointed to not be... able to move with you, I guess, even though you never even said you would or anything...God, how pathetic do I sound?."  
"You don't sound pathetic, Hikaru," Akira asserted.  
"It's not weird that I think about living with you?"  
"Weird is the wrong word, I think, Hikaru.  But no, I mean, I'd never thought about it, but it would probably be pretty nice." He paused. "If I didn't kill you."  
Hikaru laughed.

That night, Akira revisited that guilty but pleasurable act from a few days earlier– not once, but _twice_– mind stocked with cohabitation scenarios he wished he could scrub from his mind when he woke up the next morning.

Akira's voice was shaky when they had their next conversation. Hikaru pretended not to notice, and Akira didn't know why but was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

•°•°•°•

Things only got worse over the next month.

Hikaru had travelled across California, and up through Oregon, Washington, and Minnesota, and would be arriving in Illinois next week after taking a dip across the country to Texas.

It was almost April.

"You're missing the cherry blossoms, you know," Akira said.  
"Akira? Of all the things I miss about Japan, why would you think cherry blossoms are the important one?"  
Akira had failed to read into the deeper meaning of Hikaru's response.

If he had, he might not be having such a difficult time.  They played less, and called less.  Akira was now in the last few qualifying games for the Mejin title challenge, and so far, he was not relenting in his pursuit. Hikaru's program was getting tighter, and he'd had the opportunity to play Jong Moon Lee a second time.

"You get grumpy when I tell you about my games with Lee."  
"Oh really?" Akira replied bitingly.

The two were dancing around an inevitable truth, but because the dance was taking place across an ocean, there were no signs of a conclusion.

•°•°•°•

During the second week of April, things got even more complicated.

"How's Chicago?" Akira said.  Even though Hikaru had arrived three days ago, they hadn't had a chance to speak.  
"It's okay, I guess.  Some of these American cities are kind of dirty."  
"You'll be there for a while?"  
"Two weeks," he replied.  "Two and a half, really."   
Akira could hear him shuffling papers on the other end.  
"You're only two matches away from the Mejin challenge, huh?"  
"Mm, yeah."  
"You don't sound too excited, Akira, what's up?"  
"There's been a lot going on, Hikaru."  
Hikaru paused. "Akira?"

"I had an omiai."  
More silence.  
"And?"  
"And she's pretty nice, I guess."  
"Akira, you don't marry someone because they're pretty nice!" The irritation in Hikaru's voice was clearly noticeable.  
"I didn't say I was going to marry her, Hikaru."  
"Right," he replied, flustered. "Right, you didn't."  
Akira's heart was beating fast. "But I'm going to go on a date with her today.  To get to know her.  She's the daughter of one of my father's close friends, so..."  
"Ah, okay," Hikaru said, sounding relieved.

Akira inhaled and worked up his nerve. "Are you upset, Hikaru?"  
He was stunned for a second, but then blurted "No! No way, I mean, why would I be?"  
Akira chuckled nervously.  "Of course.  Of course, why would you be?"

He would be, because Kumai Nabiki was really a wonderful girl.  She was intelligent and talkative, but still refined, and enjoyed go in a higher-than average capacity.  Akira went out to dinner with her, and left with every sense that she was entirely marriageable.

Hikaru didn't call the next day, and Akira wondered if it might be a blessing, because he really had a good time with Nabiki and might have talked about her a little to much if given the opportunity.

He did call two days later, but it was during another date, and Akira answered the phone to tell him that.

He didn't hear from Hikaru for a week.

•°•°•°•

Akira was enjoying having a friend.  Hikaru had been his friend, of course, but he functioned at an entirely different social speed than Akira, and so their few weeks of interactions as real friends felt more like he was being dragged along behind a tornado than "hanging out."  But Nabiki was a lot gentler, slower.  Had a grace and wit that made Akira comfortable, made "hanging out" functional.

"Do you like me, Touya-kun?" She said on the third date, over a cup of tea and a pastry.  
"Of course I do," Akira said. "I wouldn't be out with you a third time if I didn't."  
She stirred her tea. "But you're not interested in marrying me, are you?"  
Akira froze. "Kumai-san, I'm not interested in getting married at all.  I'm eighteen."  
"Not now.  But eventually," she said.  
"Eventually?"  
"Touya-kun.  I asked if you like me.  I already know the answer, but, just tell me.  You're not interested in dating me, are you?"  She looked at him hard and disappointed, her long black hair falling into her eyes as she leaned in.  
Akira frowned and put down his tea. "I thought... we were having a good time.  Was I wrong?"

She sighed. "I asked my father to arrange the omiai, Touya-kun."  
"You did?"  
"I did.  I did because I liked you, Touya.  You're a good, interesting man, but you're not treating me like a date, you're treating me like a friend."  
Akira scowled in front of her for the first time. "I didn't know treating someone like a friend was such a crime."  
She shook her head, disappointed.   
"Are you really that foreign to the idea of romance, Touya-kun?"  
He blinked. "I'm sorry, Kumai-san, but I really, really don't understand what you want of me."

And when she reached her hand across the table and laid it on his, he was positive he was the most scared he had ever been in his life.

•°•°•°•

That night, Akira had decided he had had enough of the silence.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Hikaru, will you call me already?&lt;&lt;

A response came minutes later, though it wasn't the response he had anticipated.  
&gt;&gt;HShindo:: Did you know I'm old enough to buy cigarettes here?&lt;&lt;

Akira balked.  
&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Hikaru? What the hell? You haven't started smoking, have you?&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I'm sorry I've been ignoring you.&lt;&lt;

Akira wasn't exactly sure why the conversation was going the way it was.

&gt;&gt;touyaakira:: Can we talk?&lt;&lt;

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I'm about to go play. I'll call you tonight.&lt;&lt;

Akira was typing an affirmative response when his phone beeped mid-sentence.

&gt;&gt;HShindo:: I miss you, Akira.&lt;&lt;

•°•°•°•

Akira woke up a little too early, and was perturbed that he had nothing to do.  If it were his own apartment, surely he'd have chores he could hack at.  Dishes, laundry.  But he still lived with his parents and the situation made him even more eager for his own place.  He made a mental note to view more apartments during the break between the final qualifying match and the Mejin games.

Akira was showering himself off when the phone rang.  He stumbled up frantically and dried his hands as fast as he could to answer the phone.

"Hikaru?"  
"Yeah.  Hey.  You okay?"  
"Oh.  Yeah.  I just...didn't want to miss your call."  
"Ah.  Good. Um... are you busy?"  
"Wha- no.  No, of course I'm not.  It's not even seven yet."  
"Oh, yeah, I guess not."

They paused for a minute to recover from the nervous introductory babble, and Akira took the opportunity to wrap a towel around himself with one hand so that he could head back to his room.

"Akira, I'm sorry I was being a baby."  
"Because you didn't call me, Hikaru?"  
"Yeah.  I... look.  If you want to go and marry a nice girl, I shouldn't really be throwing a hissy fit."  
"Marry?  Hikaru, I told you, I'm not getting married."  
"But- you went on another date with her, Akira.  I assumed that meant-"  
"Hikaru, all it meant was that we went on another date.  We went on a third, too, but I don't think there will be a fourth."

"What...happened?"  
"Uh, it's kind of embarrassing.  Are you... sure you want to hear?"  
Hikaru laughed. "Are you kidding?  I really want to hear now!"  
And so Akira relayed the tale.  How she took his hand, how he walked her home, and how she kissed him before he left.  And how he pulled away from that kiss and said "What the hell are you doing?"  
"She kissed you?"  
"She did."  
"Did you like it?"

Akira thought for a moment, turning the idea over in his head. There hadn't been much to like, really.  It was sudden, and gentle, and her mouth opened just a little before he had aborted the union.

"I don't really think so.  I was kind of freaked out."  
Hikaru laughed again. "You are such a heartbreaker."  
"Well, sorry.  She was right, she said it earlier.  I had fun with her but I really had no interest in dating her."  
"Good, well, save your next kiss for me, will you?" Hikaru said.  
"Wah..." Akira started, face flushing. "I...Hikaru?"  
"Yeah?"

"How about Friday?"  
"What?" Hikaru replied.  
"I can fly in to Chicago on Friday.  Will you...?"  
"You're coming here? On Friday?" Hikaru's voice grew frantic. "W...why?  I mean... all of a sudden?"  
Akira swallowed hard. "I... have a few free days before the title matches begin.  I thought...I thought I could..."  
"Akira! I can't...I can't believe it!"  
"It's okay, right?  I mean, I didn't ask you first, but I thought you might have some free time-"  
"Of course, of course!  God, Akira, I can't wait!"

They shared a silent moment of rapture between them, thoughts clouded by fantasies about what it would be like to reunite.  They shared excited goodbyes, and as soon as Akira finished masturbating like an excited, guilty child into his towel, he got dressed and hopped on the computer to buy plane tickets.


	5. Mutually

On Thursday morning, Waya and Isumi spotted Akira as the entered the Institute.  He was talking politely with the clerk, and passing him deliberately close, they over heard the words "reschedule" and "trip to the United States."

Predictably, Akira was ambushed during the lunch break.

"Touya, are you taking a trip this weekend?" Isumi asked.  
Touya shot an impatient look at him.  He wished he'd just cut to the chase, but to bark out '_just ask me if I'm dating Shindou already' _would be too unlike him, too ill-composed.  
"I am, to the United States."  
Waya jumped in.  
"Are you visiting Shindou?"   
Akira nodded. "I am."  
Waya threw his head back with a moan.   
"Why doesn't he tell me anything!"  He cried.  
"Keep it down, Waya," Isumi said. "Touya, I know such things can be a pain, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?"  
Akira nodded again. "What's that?"  
Isumi pulled two small paperback books out of his bag.  
"Shindou really wanted these manga tankouban.  We were going to mail them but..."  
"Hm, that would cost a lot, wouldn't it?"  
"Yeah.  If there's room in your baggage?"  
"Yeah," Akira said, "that should be fine."  He took the books from the older man.  
"It's good we caught you before I went to the post today!" Waya said. "Do you know how much it costs to send books over there?"  
"Glad I could be of help," Akira said, not particularly moved either way about being helpful, in all honesty.  
Akira continued to eat for a minute, and then noticed that the other two were still there, still staring.

"Is there something else you need?" Akira asked.  
Waya looked away and Isumi fidgeted.  After a beat, Isumi said, "Yeah, I...was wondering..."  
_Here it comes_, Akira thought.  
"Are you...and Shindou... in a relationship?"  
Akira raised an eyebrow and put the lid on his bento.  
"Why do you think you need to know?" he said, still perturbed at Isumi... for some reason.  He stood up.  
Waya huffed. "Hey, he was trying to ask politely!"  
Akira spun around to glare at Waya.   
"If you two were at all polite, you wouldn't be asking about whether I'm dating another man!" he hissed, and exited the break room briskly.

Unfortunately for them, the real reason Akira was upset at the inquiries was not their fault.  Akira was upset when confronted with that question because...  
... he didn't know the answer.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.  
Akira didn't know what he wanted, really, but he was even more worried about what Hikaru might, or might not, want of their relationship.

•°•°•°•

The plane trip was an excruciating fifteen hours.  This was his second trip to the United States, but he hadn't remembered the first one being quite so long and painful.  Maybe because he didn't come alone last time, and likely because he was not squished against the window by a rather large man and sitting behind a crying baby.

He almost wondered if Shindou was worth it, but then chastised himself for the thought.

Chicago was mostly a terrible place to land, it turns out, if you're foreign and really don't have any concept of how to get where you want to go.  Luckily, Shindou had taken it upon himself to book the hotel for him and send the address in English.  Armed with a printout of that, he managed to communicate to the taxi driver where he wanted to go.

The hotel was a nice one.  As he made his way into the lobby, he wondered how much it had cost Shindou to get a room here.  Check in was easy enough, and after doing so, he stood in the lobby for a minute, wondering how he was going to contact Shindou to let him know he'd arrived.  
But no sooner had he summoned the thought, then he heard a familiar voice, recognizable even though it was rendered in a foreign tongue.

/"No, come on. No more, I'm meeting someone!"/ He heard Shindou titter as he stumbled out from the direction of the bar with a tall, thick-necked man in tow.  
"Hikaru?" he said, waving a little flatly.  
Hikaru's eyes widened. "Akira!"  
It took all of a second for Shindou to run over and embrace Touya warmly, they way he'd yearned to be embraced since he'd left. Without warning, Hikaru looked up, and from side to side, and planted a hurried and uncomfortable kiss on Akira's mouth.  
"Hikaru!" he cried, "you can't do that here!"  
Hikaru smirked. "You can't do it on a train platform in front of all my friends, either, but you did."  
Akira blushed and shoved Hikaru off in a way that communicated a showy, false annoyance.  
"You smell like beer."

/"And who is your friend?"/ the tall man asked, having caught up to Hikaru with an unhurried gait.  
"Oh," Hikaru said. "Akira, this is an associate from the institute, Henry. /Henry, this is my friend Akira Touya."/  
They shook hands awkwardly, and Henry went on.  
/"This is the one related to the old 4-title holder you were talking about, right?"/  
/"Yeah,"/ Hikaru replied. "Akira, we were just having a few drinks-"  
"Hikaru! I know for a fact you can't drink at 18 in the United States! What the hell?"  
Hikaru laughed, "Yeah, but they didn't check my ID here."  
"Hikaru, I can't believe you!"  
"You wouldn't," he said, not as hurtfully as Akira obviously took it.  
/"What's he bitching at you about, Hikaru?"/ Henry asked.  
/"Oh, you know,"/ Hikaru said. /"He's tired from the trip, so we should get going."/  
/"Alright, then. So we wont see you at Hal's tonight?"/  
/"No, tell them I said 'hi.' I'll see you in the morning."/  
/"Alright,"/ Henry said, /"but you have my number if you want to swing by. How do I tell Akira it was a pleasure to meet him?"/  
/"You say 'Dou itashimashite,' Henry."/  
He made a face, and turned to Akira with an open hand and said, "Doh itchi mash tay, Akira!"  
Akira twitched a bit and shook hands, saying in perfect English, /"Nice to meet you, Mr.Henry."/  
Henry laughed as he walked away, waving.

"That was a bit exhausting, Hikaru, can I go to my room now?" Akira said.  
"Definitely, sorry about that."  
Shindou led him to the elevators and Akira asked, "So how do you know him, again? And why were you getting drunk?"  
Hikaru raised his eyebrows indignantly as he stepped into the elevator.  
"Number one, you jealous freak, he's one of the members of the league who lives in Chicago and is helping me around the city. Number two, I had one beer. I'm not drunk."  
"He did have his arm around you when you came out." Akira said, a little childishly.  
"Oh, is this what you're gonna be like all night?" Hikaru hissed. As they stepped off on Akira's floor, Akira only had a second to wonder what Hikaru might mean when he said, 'all night,' but he would find out soon enough anyway. His train of thought derailed when Hikaru pulled out a key card and swiped it himself.

"You..." Akira said as he stepped into the room.  
The word died on his tongue as he looked into the room. It was big. Not super expensive looking, but rather cushy. He did immediately notice the single king sized bed, though, and his heart began to race.  
"I what?" Hikaru said.  
"You... also have a key?" he replied, eyes fixed on the bed.  
"I...well..." he said, suddenly very nervous. He closed the door, startling Akira.  
Hikaru leaned in over him, backing him against the wall, and Akira could see now that his face was heavily flushed.  
"I did a shitty job with that kiss, didn't I?" Hikaru whispered. Akira's face blushed to match his rival's, and he felt like his stomach was rising up into his chest.  
"Hah...um," he stammered, "it wasn't...that..."  
"Can I try again?" Hikaru said, leaning in as if he didn't plan on waiting for an answer.  
He didn't.  
It was gentler, and more considered this time. Hikaru kissed Akira thoughtfully, politely, but his eagerness was given away by the way his hands and lips trembled against him. Akira let out a tiny noise, and when Hikaru pulled away, he caught himself sighing.  
"Better?" Hikaru asked, nervous.  
"M...much," Akira answered. He watched Hikaru's face change over from satisfaction to worry.  
"I think I did something really terrible," Hikaru said, forehead pressed against Akira's.  
"What?" Akira asked, jumping a little. "What did you...?"  
"I'm really awful," he said guiltily, swinging around and walking across the room.  
"Hikaru, what are you talking about?" Akira went on, following him.  
"This room... I... shouldn't have..."  
Heat returned to Akira's face.  
"Oh, God, I totally screwed this up!" he moaned, putting his face in his hands.  
"Hikaru, calm down, I don't know what you-"  
"I thought... just in case? You know? I know we haven't talked about...uh...but I-"  
Hikaru fell silent as Akira grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around, planting his mouth firmly, and open, on Hikaru's.

•••

After a moment of surprise, Hikaru kissed back with a quiet, satisfied moan. They parted after a moment of awkward open mouthed kissing, and Hikaru gasped for air.  
"You...so..." he began, "I wasn't... the only one...?"  
Akira shook his head. "Oh, God, no, Hikaru. No, no..." Akira took Hikaru's face in his hands and reconnected their lips. They became eager this time, searching with tongues and hands, and they eventually fell onto the bed.  
"Is it okay? To want something like this?" Akira heaved breathily, squirming under Hikaru's weight.  
"I hope so," Hikaru said, leaning up to pull off his shirt. "If it's not, I really, really don't care."  
With that, Hikaru swooped down to plant his mouth on Akira's neck as Akira's hands clamored for the skin on Hikaru's back.  
"Oh, oh God, is this? Is this really happening?" Akira hissed.  
"I hope so," Hikaru repeated, moving on to hike up Akira's shirt and kiss his cheek.  
They were pressing and searching and kissing for a few minutes, and soon Akira found himself long enough remember where he was and what was happening and oh _oh God he's making out with Hikaru_.  They paused for a moment so they could crawl into a comfortable place on the bed.  
"H...how long, Hikaru...?" Akira asked vaguely as he pulled the older one back onto him.  
"Oh, shit, I don't know," he mumbled. "Since your birthday?"  
Akira pulled back for a moment to look up at him. "Since _then_?"  
"T...that I wanted you... like this.  That's...what you were asking, right?"  
"Oh, God," Akira moaned, leaning down to press his forehead onto Hikaru's shoulder.  
"Oh..." Hikaru said. "W...what about you?"  
Akira looked up, embarrassed. "Uh.  Me?  I...one...and a half...or two months ago? I don't remember when..."  
"How did..."  
"Are we talking or fooling around, Hikaru?"  
Hikaru pouted. "Can we talk? We have all night."

_All night_.  Akira got shivers.

"S...sure," he said, drawing in a steadying breath and leaning back against the pillows.  
"When did you...like, decide? How did you know?"  
Akira flushed immediately, sure that he did not want to tell Hikaru how he'd had dirty thoughts of him after their phonecalls.  
"Tell me...yours first," he said.  
"Yeah. Um.  Well..." Hikaru said, scratching the back of his head.  "On your birthday, we hugged."  
"Yes?"  
"And... the hug...well, you smelled really good and... you held me and I..." Hikaru paused. "I think I kinda... fell in love with you, or something." His face was pink and his eyes cast off into some direction that was not in line with Akira's. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you."  
Shit, Akira thought.  _His story is so sweet and mushy, I'm a total pervert, I can't tell him that I-_  
"...and then I went home and jerked off while thinking about you, so..."  
_Nevermind._  
"So what... about you?  Akira?  When did you..."  
"I don't know what triggered it," Akira said. "it was sudden, I didn't expect it.  But you were telling me about a game against someone named Stefanson, and all of a sudden I was hard.  It disturbed me a little, to tell you the truth."  
"Heh," Hikaru said, "I felt kind of weird too."

The mood was effectively broken, and the two felt strange and awkward all over again.  
"Akira, I want to play," Hikaru said.  
Akira looked up.  
"Can we do that?  I've...missed it."  
"Yeah," Akira said.  "Yeah...I'd like that."

•°•°•°•

Later, after the game, and the arguing, and knocking the travel go board onto the floor with fury, the two started kissing in a seamless but bizarre transition from yelling to making out.  When they'd grown tired of that, they laid down and curled up on the bed, and Akira yawned hard,  still exhausted from the time change, and now from the excitement, and lastly, from the hour of the night.  
"You want to sleep?" Hikaru asked, stroking Akira's hair.  "We should both get some rest."  
Akira nodded sleepily.  
"I'm really glad I came," Akira said.  
"Me too," Hikaru said, giving Akira a squeeze around the middle. "Me too."

•°•°•°•

"Hey.  Akira.  Come on."  
Akira mumbled and blinked his bleary eyes open.  He felt as though he had only just closed his eyes, but his sense of time was betraying him, because sunlight was pouring in from the window.  
"Muh?" was all he could manage in response.  
"Come on, get up," Hikaru said, already fully dressed.  "I'll get some breakfast while you make yourself human."  
"Wuh-huh?" Akira continued.  He felt like he'd woken from a coma induced from a head on collision with a truck.  Was that Hikaru?  Was he his housewife?  
"Up!" Hikaru said, grabbing Akira by the arm and yanking him into a sitting position.  "You should come with me today, to my appearances and lessons.  So get cracking, I'll get food downstairs."  
Slowly, realization came back to him.  He was in a hotel.  He spent the night with Hikaru, who had mutually expressed his affections.

And this was not a dream.


End file.
